


Remember Your Manners

by Animus_Vox



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluids kink, M/M, Spanking, Sticky Sex, Sub!Rodimus, dom!drift, valve play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animus_Vox/pseuds/Animus_Vox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift is a little tired of being pushed off for other appointments and decides that it's high time Rodimus learned a few lessons about behaving himself. (Tags will update as I write more!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Your Manners

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. Please try not to read too much into Rodimus's behavior as a sort of jab or whatever; if it ain't your thing, that's fine. I mostly just wanted to write out a full scene with these two where Drift gives Roddy some sexy comeuppance for his occasionally childish behavior and such. I'm splitting this up into chapters just because I have so much I wanna do... why write out one idea when you can just write em all? |D

At first, while Rodimus onlined his systems coming fresh out of recharge, the state of himself that he actually woke up in took a moment to register; but the uncomfortable tug of his arms being crossed behind his back at the elbows started to kick when he tried to separate them and realized he couldn't. He had also been rolled over onto his stomach (he always slept on his back, faster to get up in case of danger that way), and the most he could guess was that his arms hadn't been that way for very long; the ache hadn't really settled in.

And he would have been worried, except there was a white and red swordsmech sitting in front of his berth on a borrowed chair, arms on the edge of it, chin resting where his limbs were. Drift smiled at him with a look that would almost be endearing, if Rodimus didn't know him any better. There was affection there, sure, but there was a specific bite to the upturn of his lips that promised Drift could still deliver a mean sting in this state.

"Evening, Captain," the white sports car purred.

Rodimus blinked at him, carefully settling his expression into a neutral one; taking stock of the whole situation. After a quick check of his internal chronometer, Rodimus noted, "It's almost morning, technically."

"Oh," said Drift. Dismissively, he shrugged his shoulders. "Same difference."

He watched the white mech carefully, silence falling between them. Routine clicked with Rodimus right away; the waking up in bonds, the waiting, the guessing. This was the guessing game. And normally, their roles would be reversed: usually it was Drift who was being tied up, bound down, or otherwise commanded to silence, expected to guess what their session would be like today. Today, it seemed like Drift had been struck with a mood - and they happened on occasion - so, here he was, and Rodimus could see the excited little gleam in his partner's optics that he could never quite cover up. _Ask me,_ said Drift's expression, with something long and thin hidden beneath his forearm that he was gripping, Rodimus's arms bound behind him, the swordsmech's body blocking his view of the doorway, demanding his attention. He was like a cyber-cat ready to pounce. _Ask me. Guess. Guess what I'm going to do to you._

With his typical nonchalance, Rodimus vented a light sigh. "Okay. I'll bite. What'd I do?"

"Do?" Drift chirred innocently, tipping his helm at a soft angle.

"Why am I tied up." He clarified, tugging again with his arms a little to emphasize.

Drift was unimpressed. "It's just your arms, Roddy. I'd barely qualify it as being _tied up._ " He continued after, with a trill of his engine, "But I'm glad you asked, 'cause there's a lot of reasons why, actually. I can start with the most recent one if that's easier for you."

 _What?_ Rodimus creased his optic ridges together and frowned at him, not quite believing the claim. If he'd done something in error, it was news to him. "Like what?"

The white mech drummed his fingers on Rodimus's berth and replied simply, "Like how you blew me off the other day when we were supposed to have a night together."

"Blew you o - _oh._ " It took him a hot second; and then the flame-orange mech remembered, vaguely, _that's right, because Swerve happened._ He frowned deeply, tanks twisting up with uncertainty. "I rescheduled that, though."

"You did not." Drift told him flatly.

"Yes I did."

His partner's expression had never switched so fast. Rodimus had an inkling that he'd just been given a glimpse of what Drift had been like when he'd run with the Decepticons; his argument on his own behalf quickly fell apart. "Didn't I?" He tried.

"You told me you would comm me about moving it up," the swordsmech explained, tapping Rodimus on the end of his nose, "Which I can understand, because you're the Captain, and things happen - except you never called."

Puzzled and concerned by Drift's claim, Rodimus quickly pulled up his communication logs, searching for evidence to corroborate (dispute, really, because he could _swear_ he'd called back) the story. Though, as he combed over the day's logs from the time that Drift specified, sure enough, the Lost Light's Captain discovered there was no outgoing comm-line after the Rust Flakes Incident at Swerve's bar.

"Oh..." he pouted a little bit, "Okay, I'm sorry about that. But it's not like it's happened before."

That 'Con-like frown slashed across Drift's face again; hard and angry and expectant.

"...It has _totally_ happened before, hasn't it." Rodimus guessed. He felt his fuel plummeting down in his tanks.

His partner confirmed with another tap of his fingers, "It certainly has _._ "

Scrap. Rodimus _pouted,_ and squirmed a little bit on his berth, turning onto his side to relieve some discomfort which had started to settle under his plating. "Well, but is that really any reason to tie me up?"

Drift opened up his vents in a mild sigh, and from underneath his arms on his Captain's berth, he pulled out a long, thin rubber switch - which, predictably, _instantly_ had Rodimus's attention.

"Technically, _no,_ " he admitted. The tip of the switch traced lightly down Rodimus's arm; his optics tracked Drift's arm with the movement. "But I wanna try something. About your rude behavior." The white sports car propped his chin up in his other hand, smiling devilishly. "Besides, I've missed you lately. Think you're feeling up to it?"

He barely managed to stifle his engine at the question as realization flashed through his sensors. Again, Rodimus was familiar with the set-up, but he didn't usually find himself on the receiving end of their punishment games - and there were a lot of them. Honestly, the first time it happened had been a complete accident. Looking back on it now, Rodimus knew it probably could have been handled better, although Drift never expressed any regret, either during or after. And then it kept happening again, and again, and again, and Rodimus figured after a while that it was just one of the many other mysterious facets of Drift's life phases: _sword fighter, Decepticon, spiritualist, guttermech, glutton for sexual punishment._

Instances like right now, where Drift took control in their scenes, were rare. Which, not that Rodimus didn't enjoy them, but he was fine with it. There was an understanding between them about that: he was not a mech who liked being contained or bossed around, even outside the berth. Suggestions from others on the crew about how to go about situations always tended to get Rodimus a little prickly, even though he did well enough taking those suggestions to heart.

But sometimes, it was fun. It was exciting to see Drift giving in to a darker side of himself and it was interesting to watch him vent his frustrations - although Rodimus didn't know why they couldn't just _talk_ about this, but they'd go over that later. Right now, his arms were getting stiff, and his partner was waiting on an answer, and the switch he was playing over the edges of his framing looked so, _so_ damn tempting.

"Sure," he told the other, his smirk a little bit challenging, daring the swordsmech to push his boundaries for once.

Drift looked really pleased by the positive answer. He leaned in and gave his Captain a quick little kiss, short but no less meaningful. "Love you, Rodimus," he said sweetly. "What's the safe word?"

"It's _Dabola,_ " Rodimus recited, not missing a beat. (That had also been Drift's idea. Weird safe word. He still had no clue where the white mech got it from.)

"Mmhm." Drift rubbed his fingers gently over one of the orange mech's audio finials, before Rodimus heard a harsh beep from his partner's comm-line, indicating a blank little alert message that had been sent his way. Not completely pointless in its use, though. It was just another signifier and a second failsafe.

And as soon as he accepted the message to quiet it, Drift pushed him down again by his shoulder, still watching him with his chin in one hand. " _So,_ " he declared with certainty, "Since it seems you're a mouthy little fragger, we're gonna have some training today. You like it when we do training, right, Roddy?"

 _Sword training, mostly,_ but he didn't say that out loud. Rodimus only nodded with a soft _yes_ , and quietly cycled his cooling fans, because he could already feel his insides warming up at the thought of all the things Drift might possibly do to him.

"Three simple phrases." The ex-Decepticon held up three fingers in optical view, wiggling them for emphasis. "That's all we're gonna do today. _I'm Sorry, Please,_ and _Thank You._ Got it?"

"Yes." This was also part of Drift's piece when he took charge. Negatives and positives. Rodimus was allowed to talk, but not often, and sometimes when he got too argumentative it would result in extra punishment down the line. He thought they had finished up with all the manners training, though. Apparently Drift decided it was time to expand on the ruleset.

"Good." Drift leaned back in his chair, gently bending the switch in his hands thoughtfully. "You got any appointments today?"

He had to think about that one. "A few," the Captain replied, keeping it simple.

The swordsmech made a soft humming sound, an _oh I see_ sort of noise, and then with a look that demanded obedience, he said, "Clear them."

There was no immediate response to that on Rodimus's end. He shuttered his optics in disbelief. It wasn't unusual for their scenes to go on for a long while, but _a full solar cycle?_ "All of them?" He checked. Because there were a few mechs on that list that Rodimus _knew_ were going to object.

Drift stared him down flat. "Did I stutter?"

He squirmed. And he realized this was going to create a host of issues later with the mechs he was blowing off, but it still wasn't enough to make Rodimus recant his consent. Still, he debated it with Drift out loud. "Magnus is gonna throw a fit."

"Do I look like I give a single frag what _Magnus_ thinks?" The white mech snapped back at him. "Magnus can complain all he wants _after_ I'm done with you. I asked you to clear your slagging schedule, and I mean _clear it._ I'm sick of being pushed to the side. I want you all to myself for the day. Besides, I get the feeling it'll take us a while to really _cement_ your good manners."


End file.
